Certain Feelings
by DtheDeity
Summary: I feel so many different things. I wonder how he feels. What is it that goes on in his soul. Why is it he makes me feel better. Almost like... he changes the way I feel, or have I always felt this way?


Once again I sit here. Still as stone and as broken as glass. I can feel the souls of the many people I've killed. Many of them were innocent and just afraid. He's coming here now. Vengeance. That was the driving force behind his arrival. Vengeance. It was what kept him alive. It helped him cope. Vengeance. It's what he swore he'd gain. Vengeance. It is this that will strike me down. Vengeance. This was all the motivation needed after what I had done. His Vengeance. It will soon arrive. The vengeance he rightfully deserves. I still run though. Vengeance was going to prevail. I see no point in running anymore, but when I see him I run.

Rage. It consumed him. Rage. It was where he gained his power. Rage. It was this that would crush me. Rage. His body radiated this. The yells he roars every time he finds me. The rocks that have shattered in his attempts to hit me. I've lost count at this point. This is his Rage. His rage is what makes me run as fast as I can. It is this that makes me feel fear. I avoid this at all costs.

Pride. This is what kept him going. Pride. This was what made him help those who he met while on the hunt for me. Pride. This is why he never seeks help. Pride. This is what gives him that look in his eye when he almost hits me. The look of joy that appears for a split second. This is his Pride. This is why he will never give up.

Love. This is what I've stolen from him. Love. His family and friends offered so much of this. Love. It is lost deep in his heart. Love. This is the force that has the least amount of control. The feeling of love is lost to him. I stole it from him. Like a bullet I stole his life. His love. His love is something that can never be unlocked as long as I am still breathing.

Fear. This is what races through him when he sees me. Fear. He knows little about me and my power. Fear. He seeks to rid me from this world. Fear. This is what makes him intimidating. My fear. My fear is why I run from him. His fear is why he never stops chasing me.

Hope. We both have lost this. Hope. Is what drove him to search for survivors. Hope. He was filled with this when he was younger. Hope. He has given others this. His hope. His hope is dead. Their hope. He has given them all hope. Hope that one day he will catch me and sentence me to justice. Justice for all the blood spilled. Blood of all those he loved and those he had never known.

Regret. The only thing we have in common. Regret. The burning feeling that haunts our very souls. Regret. The very thing that keeps us awake at night. Regret. It can never be removed. Regret. It always creeps on us when we least expect it. Our regret. Our regret is what we both share and with the death of one of us that regret will either vanish ot intensify. When he finally traps me in a corner. When we are forced to battle. One of us will die. The other will either be free of regret or be killed by it. It is what will decide the outcome of our confrontation.

Anticipation. He is close. Anticipation. He knows he close. Anticipation. I have nowhere to flee. Anticipation. He knows this. Anticipation. This is shaking his entire body. Anticipation. This causing me to feel a lump in my throat. Anticipation. This is what makes me worry about the future. Anticipation. This is what clouds our heads with predictions. The anticipation. The anticipation that is being felt by me and him.

I look at him. Somehow I manage to smile if only solemnly. I can see his fist clenching. The flurry of feelings going through him right now is riveting. He is ready far more then me. He can only want me to die while I can only want for no one to die. The thought of death is unsettling. Will I come back from it? Will I have a second chance? Why does everything have to be so confusing. I envy him. He feels joy from the thought of killing me. I feel nothing but the empty shell of what was me. Why did I do it? I had every chance to not do so. First I killed my mother. She taught me everything I know. Then my best friend, who never had a dull moment in his life. The warrior who wanted to stop me and save her friends. The star who tried to shine hope for everyone. I don't know why, but this feeling of regret. It's odd. I see him infront of me. He's been hitting me wave after wave of attack. The sight of him trying to kill me to avenge the fallen... fills me with a new feeling. The feeling I believe has helped him more then all the others. This feeling...everything I've thought of...It makes me fight back. Makes me want to win and kill him. The thought of his death...

 _FILLS ME WITH DETERMINATION._

 **I FEEL... VERY... DETERMINED.**


End file.
